


frost

by minimalcoloration



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem Series
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Comfort, Gen, Moving On
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 05:28:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minimalcoloration/pseuds/minimalcoloration
Summary: They move on.





	frost

**Author's Note:**

> moved it over from tunglr.hell just in case
> 
> @princessaltena on twitter if u wanna talk abt stuff :^)

            Robin shivers at the cold touch of wind, the coolness of the snow seeps into his boots like ooze, ears already at the end of their warmth. Beside him, Kiran sits somberly, cold seemingly forgotten in the red that stains their coat. Nothing is said, the howling wind dies just enough to give way to the despair that pools at their feet. 

            A cruel twist of fate, Robin thinks as he eyes the discarded weapons shattered and broken at his feet, truly. Shuddering breaths catch his attention and he glances over at the princess, battered and bruised and yet in the end she lives as he does. Robin sees the cold in her hands, the red that slowly spreads through her fingertips, as she clutches onto the beige cape like a scared child. How many others have seen this? Outrealms that stretch far beyond their grasp, in how many of those has death come too soon? Sharena wails and Robin takes Kiran’s ice cold hand and eyes the blue of their fingers with careful inspection, Fjorm appears from behind a tree, blood dripping as she coughs up whatever remains of her insides. It is enough noise that Sharena looks up and runs over as best as she can, blinks her tears away and plants her Lance in the snow to help steady them.

              Anna commands a retreat as if there is an army at their side, tells Sharena to leave the bodies behind as she places a hand on her shoulder, and helps Fjorm limp around the corpses. Robin stands, fishes the blood soaked Breidablik out of Kiran’s jacket with numbing hands, tunes out the fevered excuses Sharena thinks up to keep her brother with her, and tucks his tome between his arm. Anna doesn’t spare a look as he goes on ahead, Robin is thankful, the snow cloaks both his tears and his warmth in an icy sheet as he trudges onward.

              What happens after? When they return who will take Kiran’s place? What is there to rebuild when they have no leader. He knows, knows that Anna will ask him to step up, and knows that the burden once again falls on his shoulders, but he does not know. Robin takes a deep breath and shivers under the cold wind that slips through the opening in his coat, he was a tactician yes, but he was no leader. He knows not of the kindness that Kiran had in infinite amounts, of the eye for redemption that cast its gaze on even the harshest of souls. If he takes up that mantle, it would be a mistake. Breidablik feels like a weight in his hands, and he ends up cradling it in the tome in his arms.

* * *

 

               Moving on is hard, not just for him and the mounting papers that sit untouched at his desk, but for the princess that yet weeps by an empty bedroom, for the commander that works harder than ever to try and be strong, for the castle that seems more hollowed by the day. Robin copes by working, a habit he unfortunately picked up in Ylisse, and the days string into weeks, weeks into months. The outside world seems to fade from his mind, time seems to slip past his perception once too many times, and the shift in his window is the only indication of change. The comfort he feels, when he is lost in tactics and not the growing void in his heart, is intoxicating.

              Sharena visits once on the darkest of days when he notes the dark circles in her eyes and the dried redness of tears, and sits at his bedside with exhausted silence, with her enters a gentle reminder that he is not alone, and although she is mute she is welcomed. Robin sleeps that night, a troubled sleep that leaves him tired yet in the morning, but it is rest nonetheless and the sheets of his bed are a foreign comfort.

* * *

 

               Were it a happy ending they would have moved on, Robin muses as he gazes across a glassy lake in the dead of winter. New souls rest scattered, skating and enjoying the snow, but he is too tired. Sharena sits beside him, ever the quiet, eyeing the glassy surface of the frozen lake with eerie intensity. There is no doubt in the air, and in his mind, that her thoughts drift back to the worst day, and his do too.  Sometimes the snowfall brings nightmares and the sticky sensation of blood on clean hands; sometimes he feels the coolness of blue fingers through the leather in his gloves that chills his bones to the very core.

               Getting over it, as hard as it is, is a requirement to strive for happiness, and even though the snow casts a shadow on heart and his mind, he grips Breidablik with the same vigor Kiran showed him. There is no escape from the dark thoughts, but there is a job to be done, and the map in his room grows more cluttered by the week. Sharena smiles more, but it is nothing close to before, yet her voice is still a far dream to obtain. Anna finally cries in the privacy of her room, he can hear it as he passes on his way to Kiran’s old room, where she is no longer the commander but a friend left behind. To say things were better was an understatement, they would never be, but he sleeps dreamless nights and wakes up with more vigor than before, and that is good enough.


End file.
